I didn't sleep very well that night, so I ended up starting my day at 5:30 instead of 7. I took my cold shower and tried to find some article of clothing that didn't scream "I'm from the slums and I get all my clothes from donation bins!"

At half-past seven I walked into the kitchen while tying my blonde hair into a ponytail. I hadn't expected my mom to be up until noon, and, sure enough, I could hear her snoring from the tiny back bedroom. That didn't matter.

I left the house and walked briskly toward the bus stop. The bus was late and I was very anxious by the time it pulled up at the station a few blocks from Whistlewood Studios. I nearly ran the rest of the way, and I felt very self conscious wondering if I looked and smelled sweaty. I had to fit in if this was going to work.

I got into a random line, fighting back a wave of nausea. Pretending to look over my shoulder, I bumped into a mom standing there with her daughter.

"Sorry!" I said quickly, sticking my hand into the pocket of the mom's purse.

"It's alright, Dear." She smiled sweetly at me.

"Who are you trying for?" Her daughter, who looked about my age, asked me.

"Uh..." I looked around, trying to think of a random name. "...Giselle," I then said, spotting the name on a sheet of paper on the door the line was leading toward.

"She's the main character." The girl then sighed wistfully. "I could never get her. I'm trying for Abigail. The supporting best friend is all I could hope for."

"You need to have faith," I told her, because I felt like that was the only way to respond. "You can't get any part if you don't believe in yourself."

The girl nodded and I turned away with a tight smile.

I spent the next five hours going around to every good looking person I could find. I was just about to call it a day when an authoritative woman yelled, "Next!"

"That's you," a boy of about twelve pushed me forward.

"What? Oh, no--" I began, but the woman made an impatient sound in her throat and beckoned me forward.

I walked through the door to the audition room as slowly as I could, looking around for a path to make a break for it.

"Name?" A bored sounding man asked, looking down at a clip board.

It took me a second to realize he was talking to me.

"Rosie? Rosie Smith."

"Who will you be reading for?"

"Um." I remembered the name I had told the girl earlier. "G-Giselle?"

"Begin," the man drawled, holding out a script to me.

I looked down at the stapled pack of paper, beginning to sweat.

"Well?" A woman to the man's right waved a hand at me.

I swallowed. "Mom! I am not a child anymore!" I stammered. "I want to be able to do things just like the other kids. And I certainly don't want my mom as my teacher! Giselle turns angrily."

I blushed, realizing I wasn't supposed to read the stage directions.

"It's not fair," I continued. "You never care about me! You think about everyone else: the twins, my cousins, but you never stop to think about how I feel."

My mom's face suddenly popped into my head. I growled, realizing that this was exactly how I felt about her. She didn't care about my feelings either.

"Just once I want you to say, 'Giselle, how can I help you? Giselle, I-I love you.'"

I stammered at that last line, tears forming in my eyes. Mom would never say that. I just had to believe that she said she loved me by showing me. Boy did she have a weird way of showing it.

"But you don't love me." The tears began to fall. "You just--"

"Stop!"

I looked up, choking on an ugly sob. The panel of judges seemed unimpressed by my outburst, all except one older man sitting on the very end. He gave me a nod, seeming to almost smile at me.

"thank you." The first man gave the woman a look.

Embarrassment burst inside me as I hurried out the door. Obviously I'd done terrible. I couldn't believe I had cried in front of strangers!

I tried not to let another tear fall as I practically ran from the building. Coming here had been the worst mistake of my life.